Sometimes parents are a little heavy-handed at Halloween, sending their offspring off to trick or treat in costumes more meaningful to the parent than the kid. For example, one kid appeared at my door wearing an elaborate monks robe and beads and weird Friar Tuck haircut. Who are you? I dont know everyone on the Jedi Council. Im not a Jedi. Im Saint Fructus, 4th-century Spanish martyr. His dad beamed from the sidewalk. An 8 year old girl approached my porch with a severe sour face that matched her dour skirt, cape and bonnet. Are you Laura Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie? No, Im an obscure early 20th century suffragette. Her mother shrugged her shoulders at the end of my walkway, as if to say, Yeah, I know I shouldnt have, but I have no boundaries, plus she came from my ovaries, so there. 10 minutes later I got depressed when a boy dressed like Sylvester Stallone in the film F.I.S.T. knocked on my door. Dont ask, he said, preempting my question. Im a late 19th century Mexican trade unionist whose name I cant pronounce. His dad held his fist in the air, and shouted, Si se puede! Kids. Stuck like Chuck with folks stuck in the past.
Posted on: Sat, 01 Nov 2014 21:14:51 +0000
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